Blaze of light along the blade
by jianu
Summary: ---UPDATED-- (Chapter 2 complete) Achilles becomes obsessed with Hector after their confrontation at the Temple of Apollo. Warnings: Slash and Het AchillesHector with Patroclus and Breisis on the side
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Eventual descent into darkness.

_"Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word. The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword! " Oscar Wilde_

**Chapter One**

Achilles sucks in the air perfumed with seaweed, incense and ash. He feels the distant thrum of war drums under his feet. White foam pushes against the beach, which has already been stained crimson from battle. Behind him, ringing metal and mangled screams reverberate from within the temple. Achilles surveys the scene before him with satisfaction.

From the east, a cloud of dust and hooves charges down the sand dune. He counts eight Trojan horseman with their metal helmets glinting in the midday sun. Target practice, he thinks and smiles slightly.

Achilles leans his gold-tipped spear against the temple wall and swaps it for one made out of wood. Its flint tip is blunt and its weighting was slightly off, but it will serve its purpose. He takes aim at the silver helmet with the tuft of blue. He pauses for a moment recollecting that blue is the colour of royalty, and changes his aim. The projectile sings through the air, piercing the flanking soldier in the throat. Blood spurts forth like a burst cyst.

A spear flies back with equal pace to which Achilles casually steps aside. It lodges in the wooden temple door with force. The speed is fair but the aim is off, thinks Achilles. You have to do better than that to kill me, Trojan prince.

The prince draws closer undeterred, until Achilles could see his inscribed breastplate and metal sheath. Their eyes connect. A blaze of light dances along the blade. Cold fury belies pure power. Hector. We finally meet.

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Hector watches the lone warrior slink off into the temple. Arrogance and disdain infuse his every step. The warrior moves with feline like grace, his spear is looped in between his right arm and his back, its hard tip brushes lightly along the ground, leaving a trail bloody in the sand. 

Hector dismounts in one full sweep, weapon outdrawn, eyes hard. He pauses for a second to consider his plan. To enter, his men may face an easy ambush. To wait, and the priestesses will die when they could be saved. Hector grits his teeth and cautiously steps into the darkness. His soldiers follow him wordlessly.

It is damp and cool inside. Flickering torchlight paints dancing shadows upon the frescoed walls and sandstone pillars. The air is thick with myrrh and the coppery tang of blood. Only the quickened breaths from his men disrupt the unearthly silence. Twenty paces ahead, a figure leans against the doorway to the inner sanctuary. Hands folded across his chest, his body is a black silhouette lined with an amber glow. Hector alters his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly the figure steps backwards, into the light. In an instant his features come into focus. Golden mane, blue eyes and shimmering sweat covered skin. His breastplate is moulded to the contours of his chest, his thighs exposed by his tunic, wrists and shins shielded with leather greaves. Apollo himself in the flesh, is the first thought that crosses Hector's mind and dismisses it quickly. Achilles acknowledges Hector's scrutiny with a curl of his lips and disappears inside. Hector signals a man to follow him, and the rest to stand their ground.

By the power of Apollo, let them be alive, he prays silently before crossing the threshold.

In the inner room, two Myrmidons await him. Hector ducks one blade and blocks another, spins around quickly to drive his sword into the first man's abdomen. The spokes of his shield slices the other's throat.

Then, Hector sees the desecration. The pure sanctuary of Apollo was tainted with blood. Butchered and defiled bodies litter the floor. A severed arm lay across the sacrificial altar.

'Cowards!' Hector bellows. 'Have you no honour?'

'And what do Trojans know of honour?' drawls Achilles.

Hector scans the room for the speaker. Too many columns, too little light.

'They were innocents, unarmed!'

A pause.

'It's called war, my prince.' came the mocking reply.

A spear sails through the air and lodges in the skull of other Trojan soldier.

'People die.'

In the outer room, fighting erupts as if on cue.

Hector makes a move to rejoin his men. At that moment, another spear flies from his left, aimed at his torso. Hector ducks in time. The spearhead lodges deeply within the wall. Hector's pulls out the gold-tipped shaft with his hand.

'I will use this,' he spits out every word, 'to pierce your heart.'

Then Hector lowers his body and vanishes behind a pillar. Two can play this game.

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This is getting interesting thinks Achilles as the other man enters the shadows with his spear.

Achilles eases his sword out from his velvet-lined sheath soundlessly. He leans against a column, closes his eyes and listens for any sound of movement. The fighting from the outer sanctuary has died down. No doubt his Myrmidons were victorious. He hears nothing, and is a little disconcerted.

'Is Troy out of weapons?' He purposely provokes.

No response. Achilles quickly shifts to the adjacent column.

'You should know better than to play with your enemy's spear.'

Still no response. Then, Achilles hears a faint exhale of breath from the other side of the column.

'It's beautiful isn't it? Gold dipped spearhead. Fit for Ares himself.'

In a rapid movement, Achilles swings around the column and slashes at chest level. Nothing. He grows angry at his miscalculation.

'Pity you are too unskilled to use it.'

Achilles continues his taunts as he moves to the last column. This is where Hector must be, he thinks.

Achilles swings around again, this time aiming for the legs and slashes nothing but air. Instinctively, he turns around and blocks. Hector's sword collides with his shield forcefully, sending reverberations down his arm. Within an instant, the blade swings again aimed at his thigh. Achilles jumps back. It misses. They trade ten more blows with Achilles on the defence, their strokes fluid and powerful as the two swords join in a brutal dance.

With the last thrust, Achilles is backed into the temple altar. He bends backwards as Hector's sword skims the air above his nose. Close. Achilles swirls to his left just as the edge of Hector's blade catches his right arm. Blood trickles down his arm and stains his own sword. Upon this sight Achilles retaliates with double the fervour.

With a quick flick of his sword, he disarms Hector and points the blade at his throat.

TBC

Coming up... Breisis, Patroclus, lust, violence and more darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On the northern end of the beach are newly pitched tents, oiled sheepskins stretched over whale bone frames with curls of smoke rising from their tops. Further down, soldiers collect arrows and swords off the sand and rinse them in the sea. The severed limbs and heads are carried to the western end, where the dead are piled on beds of driftwood, stripped naked of their armour and weapons, like rotten fish over collapsed barrels. Patroclus emerges from his tent looking for Achilles.

He sees a Myrmidon and calls him.

'My friend, have you seen your leader?'

'Ay, Achilles took twenty men with him to the temple sir,' the soldier points eastwards. 'To bring back gold and women,' he says and breaks into a toothy grin.

'When did he leave?'

'Before midday, should be back any time now.'

Patroclus frowns. It is just like Achilles to go without telling him. He shakes his head slightly.

'Can't wait either eh?' the soldier sniggers stroking his beard, 'Heard those Trojan priestesses have the softest bosoms and the tightest…'

Patroclus turns away before the soldier finishes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx'I must say,' Achilles drawls softly, 'I am disappointed.'

Sword still pointed and its tip unmoving, he looks the other man up and down. Hector is a few inches taller, with black curls and a bearded jaw, fists tightening into balls, muscles quivering with strength.

'I came all this way for you, Prince Hector.' he looks into the other man's eyes. Hard, grey, pupils large, almost black.

'To fight the best.' Achilles continues, pleased with the pure hatred he sees. 'To fight you and kill you.'

He waits for a response. None came.

'It's a pity to see this end so prematurely,' he says, still holding his gaze. 'I guess all that is left to do after I kill you, is to burn your city and fuck your wife.'

Upon this, Hector swipes his left wrist at Achilles' sword forcing it to the side. Metal cuts through leather, then skin. Hector brings his right arm behind his back and grabs the gold-tipped spear. Cut into arm-length moments earlier, he thrusts it hard at Achilles' neck. Caught off balance by this surprise attack, the tip grazes Achilles' throat as he veers to the side. A moment later, Hector's fist collides with Achilles' cheek sending the other man to the ground. Taking this opportunity to collect this sword, Hector stands heaving, ready to strike another blow.

Suddenly half a dozen Myrmidons surge into the inner chamber, six swords outdrawn all pointed at his body. Still facing Achilles, Hector assesses his enemies from the corner of his eyes.

Achilles stands and wipes the blood from his mouth.

It is then that Hector laughs coldly, and speaks.

'So this is the great Achilles. Sacking temples, killing innocents, letting others do the fighting for him.'

Achilles narrows his eyes as Hector's blood drips from his gauntlet, and splatters silently on the ground. He sees the man clench his sword tighter, ready to attack. He sees the look in Hectors's eyes, and knows it well. A man who faces death's scythe, fearlessly, determined to fight it with his sword. He knows but for this intervention, his arrogance would have led to his demise under this very sword. He has finally found a worthy adversary.

With a wave of his sword, the other six blades withdraw.

Uncertainty briefly clouds Hector's eyes.

'It's too early to kill princes.' Achilles says offhandedly.

He picks up his golden spearhead, and tosses it to Hector.

'Let's see if you can make good your word.'

With the spear in one hand Hector walks out without a backward glance. His every step is forceful and certain.

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Outside, the sunlight startles his unaccustomed eyes. Achilles studies Hector as he makes his way down the steps. With a whistle, the horse comes bounding to him. A tamer of horses in indeed. But Hector doesn't mount his horse, but instead leads it by its reins across the sandy ground. He stops at the body of the soldier that Achilles had speared. The spear shaft is still protruding from the dead man's throat.

Achilles grips the hilt of his sword as Hector kneels down in front of the dead man. He sees Hector draw out his sword and cut off the wooden shaft. He watches Hector cradle the limp head to his chest and gently close the dead man's eyes. He can not pull his eyes away as Hector gathers the body into his arms as if it is a sleeping child and places it on the saddle with the greatest care. With the dead man in his embrace Hector disappears over the horizon.

Achilles' legs are fixed to the spot. He feels a strange tug on the inside. A sense of long suppressed yearning and loss threaten to break the surface. He suddenly thinks of Patroclus and wants to see him, touch him and fuck him till all the feelings subside, until he is left with emptiness save for a single desire. How dare he laugh at him and flaunt his noble acts. I will bring you down, thinks Achilles. I will smash your hero's veneer. I will rip your body to shreds then next time we meet. I will break you until you beg for mercy at my feet. Then I will kill you and claim my glory.

Leaving his men behind, Achilles goes down to the beach to find Patroclus.

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TBC... coming up, Breisis, Patroclus, n/c, violence, madness and more darkness.. What do you think so far? Please leave a review!


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